Water
by OlaMarmota
Summary: The human body is approx. 60 percent water. When this vital liquid is all but stripped from the face of the Earth, ragtag communities strive for survival. It is a world of hate, war, strife...loyalty and respect. The bonds will never be broken. AU/AH BXE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello my pretties. This story has been brewing in my mind for a long while, and I've finally decided to put it down on paper...er, computer? Anyway, this started off as a short (really short) Biology assignment, and I liked the idea so I took it and blew it all to pieces.**

**Also, this is short, but that's because it is the Prologue. Future chapters will definitely be longer.**

**Feel free to read and review (please?)**

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Prologue

The signs had always been there; the dangers always present. But danger is always present, and threats don't necessarily mean action. So those in power ignored the inevitable, ignored the idea of an unlivable Earth. They sat in their posh homes and offices, chugging gallon after gallon of water, not even _once_ wondering where the hell it would all end up. Where _we_ would all end up. Because it didn't matter to _them_. After all, the Earth is mostly water, they reasoned. There would always be water.

How wrong they were.

It started slowly. Gradual changes in the environment made previously dry lands inhospitable. But no one lived on those lands, so they reasoned that it did not matter. The poles began to melt. Again, they reasoned, there was more water for all. Everything flooded, and still, no one desired a change.

The temperature continued to increase. The slushy marshlands of the previous century slowly turned into the deserts of the next century. Wind—hot, dry, unbearable wind—shook dust storms that ravaged whole countries. Entire animal and plant species became extinct at a rate previously unheard of.

And humans—well, they began dying by the millions. As water became a commodity, the population became its smallest in millennia. _Now_ people wanted change. But it was too late; there was no turning back. So humans, like the rational, sentient beings they were, went on a killing spree. Decimated entire fucking civilizations, entire cultures, to sustain their needs. To feed themselves and satiate their burning _lust._ Because it was lust—lust for the lifestyle that no longer was. The human race was reduced to a handful of small tribes and groups of wandering nomads. The Earth had been thrown into a seemingly endless cycle of heat and of death.

Perhaps I'm being too harsh. There was a period of invention, slightly before the mass murders—a period of creativity and resourcefulness—that saved the human races sorry asses. And after all, I am a human. Who am I to judge? I've lied and threatened and stolen and… killed. Oh, yes, I have killed—I've damned so many people to save my own skin that I've lost track. _All in the name of the Source_…But good things still happened: babies were born, music still shared, and love… people still fell in love. Like me, I fell in love once. Do you know what's incredible? She loved me back.

Me, Edward Cullen.

Anyway, some odd years after the first forecasts of Global Warming, I like to imagine that the Earth finally begins to stabilize. That there will be changes, as slow to come as they had been in the beginning of it all, and rain will fall more than once a year, and crops will begin growing in places where they just couldn't grow—can't grow—right now.

But this isn't a story about the Earth, and I will not bore you with the details. I wasted too much damned time fretting about them in the past, and I do not have much time left. I am an old, dry, withered man, just waiting for the day when my liquid life will go to serving the community. And the story must be told-to anyone, _anyone_, so that they may remember. Because this, this is the tale of Man—_men,_ like you and I, because anyone who clinged to this pathetic excuse for a fucking life was a certified man—and the struggle to survive. This is a tale of Man and his dealings with the most important, and most often disregarded resource on this planet.

Water.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello lovelies. I've been sick lately, which means I was able to write this much faster than usual. So... uhm... the flu for the win? No? Okay.**

**Just a quick note: the italicized bits-at least the longer ones-are flashbacks.**

**Please, please, please, PLEASE review.**

**I own nothing, although that much should be obvious.**

_She held me tightly in her arms, placing gentle kisses on my head. "Momma," I cried. "Momma, please…please don't leave me."_

_A strangled sob escaped her throat, only slightly muffled by my hair. I could imagine the wasteful tears falling from her pretty eyes and into my scalp. That was wrong; she was being careless with the water. I had half a mind to look up at her and kiss away her tears—they would taste so good, and my mouth was so dry._

"_Baby. Baby, it's alright," she told me. I found that impossibly hard to believe. "You'll be alright, I promise. Listen to me, you must prove your worth here." Now she was gripping my skinny arms tightly, and staring me straight in the eyes. There was an intensity there… an urgency to get her point across. "You must protect their Origin, our Origin… it is the only way you will survive." She shook me slightly. "Promise me, Edward!"_

_And so I nodded my head, unable to get the words out properly. "I promise Momma." She hugged me tighter than she had ever before, and I realized at that moment that I would never see her again. Sure enough, two tough looking guys began dragging her away._

_She looked back at me one last time and gave a watery smile; I hiccupped._

Heat. Unbearable, unwavering heat.

I imagined I could see the sun's rays against my body as the sticky perspiration soaked through my shirt, that precious water leaving my body at alarming rates. Even though most of it was caught by the WAPI—the Water Purification Invention—it would not last me long. The WAPI strapped to my back was an ancient model, and it would certainly break because of duress. No... If I did not find an Origin soon, I knew that I would not survive the night; already, I was dizzy—light headed and heavy footed.

But where in the world could I hope to find an Origin here, in this barren, harsh wasteland? Heat was rolling from the grounds in visible waves—They did not last long in these regions, even in relative terms. I mean, They were now a rarity in most regions of the world, but this region was one of the first to suffer. Maybe there had once been a time, _maybe_, when this place would have been abundant with the living fluid; storytellers were fond of the fables of the "blue planet". But those were only stories; fantasies to titillate the minds of young ones, and wet their tongues during the countless droughts.

I closed my eyes against the brightness of the light, imagining my small tribe. _My small, fierce, strong tribe._ I held back a strangled sob at the thought of them. They had been owners of the only Origin for miles—maybe the only one in the continent—until rivaling nomads had managed to overpower them. It had been a devastating defeat for my people. The night of the raid, so many lives were lost; they did not give up the Source until only three children and I had remained.

_Growing up in the tribe had taught me one thing: we have a loyalty to the Origin. We tend to the needs of the Origin. We protect the Origin. We give up our life to the Origin, if necessary. Why? Because without the Origin, we would have no life. We depended on it. We needed it, just as It needed us for maintenance. _

_Now I watched with wide eyes as they performed the Extraction of my mother's life-source. It was horrifying. The pump—which someone humorlessly called 'The Vampire'—sucking out any trace of water while her body slowly shriveled away. Her cries as it drained her. When her once full lips cracked and bled, I decided that I could watch no longer. I could hear splashing as her now-purified soul was dumped into the Origin._

_After it was all said and done, I went to live with my father. If you must know one thing about him, it's that he is dedicated—to his work, that is. When he got an opportunity to work on the Tribe Council, he dropped my mother and I like a bad habit. But who can blame him? Council members got more water than anyone else (because apparently, talking about the Origin took a lot of energy). He was emphatic about his job._

"_Boy," he'd tell me. "The Origin is the closest any of us will get to paradise, because the Origin is paradise." I'd nod my head in agreement, because it was expected of me, and because it must be true._

_One day, when I was 14, my father disappeared. He had drowned himself in the Origin while I was at school._

_It must have been a glorious way to die._

Those children did not last nearly as long as I'd hoped. Their weak, fragile bodies couldn't stand the shied away from the agonizing glare of the sun. One of the children—Annie—couldn't have been more than 7 years old. Her two front teeth had been missing and she was tan with freckles. And she had a blinding smile. Every night, she'd sing an ancient folksong called "Sweet Betsy from Pike." Annie had only known four lines of the song:

_They swam the wide rivers and cross the tall peaks,__  
__And camped on the prairie for weeks upon weeks,__  
__Starvation and cholera and hard work and slaughter,__  
__They reached California spite of hell and high water._

Annie and I would laugh quietly at the idea of "wide rivers" and "high waters," and we would dream of a reality in which they wouldn't be so damn ridiculous. She had told me with wide eyes once—no more than a day before she succumbed to the heat—that she believed in a Heaven, and that it was covered in water.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that the closest we'd get to paradise was the Origin.

She had been the last to die. After her—and the two others, boys, though I couldn't remember their names—perished, I used the Vampire on them. It was…different, taking water from the dead: more peaceful, less like murder. Besides, it was necessary. No amount of water could be wasted on them; there wasn't enough for the living.

But I walked on. I walked, and walked, and walked some more. I began sleeping during the day, trying to avoid the worst of the heat. I battled nightmare after nightmare those days. Fire, and burning. My mother's screams, the savages' cackles. I imagined drowning with my father in the Origin, of dying surrounded by the liquid. I dreamed of myself, awake, watching and living in my own Extraction—that one scared me the most.

A week passed after Annie's death, and my water-skins were almost empty.

I wanted to give up. It couldn't be worth it; I'd never find what I was looking for. The Origin was in the hands of the savages, and I was alone. Even if I did happen upon another, I could never take from it. Resigned to my fate, I took a large drag out of the WAPI. The purified water still held the bitter taste of sweat, but it moistened my mouth and throat.

My torture lessened as the sun slowly moved down towards the horizon, but I still felt like the living dead. That's when I smelled it. Salt. More specifically, the type of salt present in the ocean, in its waters. _Ocean. Water. Water._ I felt my cracked lips stretch into a smile and pushed myself further, taking large gulps of my bitter purified sweat. _Is this…drooling?_ I grinned even more erratically at the thought.

Slowly, the scenery around me began to change: desert gave way to not-entirely-usable soil, with small weeds struggling above it, clinging to life. A well-trodden path curved past him. Was it civilization, perhaps? _I wonder if they're still here._

After deciding that this was my best chance at survival, I decided to take the road, following the salty promise in the wind. As the sun disappeared completely beneath the horizon, I began to see the first actual, human-made signs of civilization. At first, there was only trash to be seen. Then, quite suddenly, a large stone wall jutted against the otherwise flat landscape.

_A city._

_I sat with a group of boys my age, watching as they chatted excitedly. We waited for the Warriors to arrive. Today, my apprenticeship would start. Today, I'd prove to this whole tribe that I'm not the worthless shit that my father was. That I was strong. That I could protect the Origin like the rest of them._

"_Boys," came the booming voice of the Head Guard. We scrambled to attention. "You've heard stories about bountiful water—places where there is no thirst. It's beautiful, right?" He didn't wait for anyone to agree._

"_Well, it's the biggest fucking lie you'll ever hear. Let's get this straight. There is the Origin; that is it. There is no city on the edge of the continent, there is no paradise but what we have here. There is no hope outside this village. No life._

"_It is your job to ensure the survival of the source. There are savages beyond our border, ready to destroy our way of life. You," He looked straight at me._

"_Are you your father's son, or are a man?"_

"_I am a man, sir."_

"_Then will you give up your life for the tribe and the Origin?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_Good. You will train under me." The other boys looked at me with what could only be described as pure hatred. I made a mental note to watch my back. I turned to listen as The Head started speaking once more._

"_Know this: I will teach you how to fight—and I will teach you how to die."_

Cities were thought to be a legend in my tribe, but I'd known better. It is true though, that they are rare in this age, almost as rare as available Origins, and completely unheard of without the latter. It was possible that they would provide for me.

_Or turn me into a resource_, as his tribe had done with trespassers. And my mother. Take out his life-force as he had done with the children, and with Annie.

Seeing no other alternative, I trudged on. A lifetime seemed to pass before I reached the wall. _No one's here._ Still, as I walked on the beat down dirt road, I was careful to not look suspicious. The hair on my neck began to prickle, and I looked about me wildly.

_I was wrong. Someone is definitely here. Maybe a great deal of someones._

And then I recognized what was happening; they were planning an ambush. I reacted on instinct, moving my legs at an incredible speed. I had to get away. Maybe I could find another way in, where there were no savages guarding the walls. _Shelter, I need to find shelter._ In vain, I took in my surroundings, noticing that the only cover I could hope to find was within the walls, inside the city. I was out in the open, and I was still trapped.

I ran anyway, hoping against all reasonable hope that I could escape. There was no way to know how many people were currently after me, trying to steal from me, trying to take away my life-force. And I didn't want to find out. There was a mad rushing in my ears, almost completely drowning out the pounding of my feet. _Thump, thump, thump._

_Hurry, hurry, hurry._

And quite suddenly, I was on the ground, breath knocked out of me, being pulverized by some huge figure. My adrenaline rush wouldn't accept this though—I kicked and punched in every direction, with spasms that were out of my own control.

"Who are you?" I snarled at the fat fucking oaf crushing me into the dirt. I could sense rather than see the people encircling me, vultures. Ready to strike and pillage at the first opportune moment.

"Red, pull him to his feet."

My struggling stopped immediately. That voice wasn't one of a warrior. It was a _girl._ A fucking girl, talking about me like I wasn't even here. "Who are you?" I repeated, calmer.

"It's none of your concern who I am," the girl replied. "You however, you must answer to me. You are trespassing upon our lands; we could kill you for it, and no one would question us. Do you realize that?" Her face was inches from mine now, and I had to hold the urge to spit. "Identify yourself."

"My…my name is Edward."

"And what is your business here, _Edward_?" I hated the way she said my name, like I was something disgusting under her boot. "Well? Don't tell me you've gone mute?"

By this time, I was seeing red. How dare this girl demand anything from me? Where the men of this city too weak to take charge? I opened my mouth to answer, to tell her to fuck off with her attitude when I felt a sting on the side of my face. _The bitch slapped me._

"Obviously he's gone dumb, Red. Knock him out."

And then everything went pitch black.


End file.
